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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143986">fifth of december</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisiblemay/pseuds/theinvisiblemay'>theinvisiblemay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidents, Awkward First Times, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of Death, Mild Smut, Tags Are Hard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:34:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisiblemay/pseuds/theinvisiblemay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"i think there’s something special between us, something… unique and extraordinary. i know it may be weird since we’ve only met yesterday, but that’s how i feel and nothing will ever change it"<br/>"happy fifth of december, andres. i love you"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa &amp; Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fifth of december</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this work has been inspired by donna tartt's "the goldfinch".<br/>i tried to tag as many warnings as possible, but if i missed anything, i'm genuinely sorry!<br/>have fun reading x</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>december 5th was the worst day for martin. on this day seven years ago his father passed away due to cancer, leaving his lost, broken 16-year-old self alone in this world. his mother left them shortly after martin’s 7th birthday, not being emotionally stable enough to maintain a healthy relationship with both of her boys. it tore a big hole in his heart, but somehow he managed to get used to live without her. his father was the most wonderful, caring and selfless person he’s ever known. having worked as an architect, they got to travel to cities martin has never heard of, and even though their trip schedule was always exactly the same - first day was meant for sightseeing and visiting museums and art galleries - he was always happy to visit those places, because he grew to love art more than anything in the entire universe. it was a bit shocking to both of them, since martin was the nerdy type of guy, he was meant to become an architect, like his father. he eventually became one, but the admiration for art has never left his life.<br/>
unlike his dad, who passed away as quickly as the weather changes in spring. the day of his death was also his birthday, and when martin entered his dad’s room early in the morning with a cupcake and a candle in his hands only to see an unconscious body lying in the bed, he has never felt this much pain in his entire life. <br/>
and ever since that day, martin spent every december 5th in an art gallery, as a tribute to the person who meant the most to him.</p><p>today, 20 years after the morning that left him scarred forever, martin woke up to the sun shining straight onto his face and a beautiful woman sleeping next to him. the last time he did that was when he had just started discovering himself, and he’s never touched a woman ever since he learned that he’s interested in men only. it took him a few long minutes to realise that the sleeping beauty hidden under long, black hair was agata, his co-worker and best friend, who is happily married to another woman. they were in florence and had just finished a big project, so obviously they had to throw a party before they leave. martin left a soft kiss on agata’s forehead, got up and started to get ready for his annual ritual, trying his best not to ruin the happy mood they both were in for the past few days. after making coffee and a small breakfast he sat on the balcony, enjoying the stunning view of the florence cathedral being only a few meters in front of him. the city was still half asleep, so he took his time and tried to memorize every person he saw on the streets. there was this one man he saw a few times already, and no one has ever made him this curious. he was tall, always wearing a long black coat and a fedora. his moves were fast, steady and full of grace, which made him look like a really important person. martin has never seen his face, but there was something about this man that made his heart skip a few beats.</p><p>it was around 11 a.m. when they finally left the hotel and decided to visit a few shops before going to the uffizi gallery, the only place on his bucket list he’s never been to. agata begged martin to take her with him, but he didn’t want to share that day with anyone else beside his dad. it took a few slaps and screams for him to finally agree, and now they were queueing in front of the building, still talking about their last project. martin has never seen his friend that happy, so even when he got bored of listening to the same thing for like the hundredth time, he allowed her to ramble about it just to make her face light up and to see her stunning and contagious smile.<br/>
after an hour of walking around the gallery and listening to random tour guides talking about paintings and sculptures in a few different languages, martin and agata decided to part ways to focus on what interested them the most. she disappeared in a second, and he finally found what he was looking for. the birth of venus, one of his dad’s favorite pieces. he sat in front of it and tried to memorize as many details as possible, admiring its beauty at the same time. suddenly he heard a deep voice talking in english with a hard spanish accent, and couldn’t contain himself to not look around and find its owner. not being sure how or why, but the second he saw the nearest tour guide, he knew it was the guy he’s been looking at for days. the way he moved and the energy radiating from him were exactly the same, and if martin has never been in love, he definitely was now. everything about this man was so magical and charming to him, like he was one of the art pieces in the museum. his big hands, the way they moved, that captivating voice he could only imagine hearing while they’re both in the bed late at night, not to mention his face. he wasn’t the most handsome man martin has ever seen, but there was something in his look, in his smile and in the way he spoke that couldn’t keep him sane.<br/>
when he realised the voice was getting more and more quiet, he got up and decided to join the tour. for the first time in twenty years martin allowed himself to focus on something - or someone - else than his dad, and he felt guilty about it, but deep in the heart he knew his dad wouldn’t be mad. he was almost in his forties and has never been in a serious relationship; he tried to justify it by “not being able to find the right person”, but everyone around him knew he had trouble with conveying his emotions. but this man made him feel like no one ever had, and martin wasn’t going to just give up on him. meeting him was like a turning point in martin’s life, and even though he knew nothing about him, except that he wasn’t italian, he felt like they had known each other for years. he didn’t know how, but he was going to befriend this breathtaking tour guide right there and right now.</p><p>“you’re not a part of this group, are you?”, martin heard that deep voice behind his back, right after the tour has ended. he tried his best not to look too obvious, but everytime he glanced at the guide, he always somehow managed to catch the look and just smiled. martin had seen a lot of people smiling, but this one was definitely the prettiest of them all. it was like a ray of sunshine after a rainstorm, and when he smiled, martin did too.<br/>
“are you some kind of a secret client? you’re here to spy on me and then report me to the manager, right?”, he added after the other one turned around. being much shorter than the guide, martin had to raise his head and he blushed when their eyes met.<br/>
“n-no, i’m just a regular visitor and… your way of talking about those paintings made me illegally join”, he answered after a long while, trying to hide a smile. “martin berrote, an architect and art lover”, he said, holding out his hand.<br/>
“andres de fonollosa, tour guide and another art lover”, he answered, shaking martin’s hand. followed by a few seconds of awkward silence, andres looked at his watch and smiled softly. “my shift has just ended, but i may or may not spend a few more minutes here… if you want, of course”.<br/>
“it would be my pleasure”, said martin, returning a smile. using all the strength he could find inside him he tried to calm down and act interested for the next two hours, but unfortunately the only thing he was able to pay attention to was andres and his oh so enchanting voice.</p><p>“and i guess that would be all for today”, said andres, leaning himself on a counter and rolling up his shirt’s sleeves. martin nodded in response and started biting his lower lip.<br/>
“it may turn out weird but… would you like to go for a dinner this…”<br/>
“yes, i would”, answered the other one, smiling. “but what about your friend?”<br/>
“my… what? how do you know her?”<br/>
andres winked, took a piece of paper and wrote something on it. after giving it to martin he patted his back, smiled once again and left. </p><p><em> meet me at 9 in la giostra<br/>
</em> <em>a x</em></p><p>“martin, dios mío, calm down a bit!”, said agata, throwing a black tie at him. it was a few minutes after 8 p.m., so he started to get ready, but he was too nervous to even button up his shirt. he’s never been on a date before, and even if this wasn’t one, he felt like it was anyway. he googled the restaurant they were about to meet in and he thought it’s way too exclusive and, well, it was a perfect place for a first date.<br/>
“i can’t, i just can’t do it… what are we gonna talk about? what if he’s married? oh my god, he looks like he’s a husband… and what if he’s straight? agata, what the fuck have i done?!”<br/>
“shut up or i’m gonna throw you out of the window, you idiot! everything’s gonna be okay, just relax, breathe, don’t get drunk too quick and you’ll do great”, she said, making sure he looks perfect. “now go, before you change your mind!”<br/>
and so he did.</p><p>martin lit up a cigarette and was on his way to the restaurant, when he saw a small flower shop ran by a man older than florence itself. he decided to be the old fashioned romantic man for once and bought a small bouquet of white roses, leaving a huge change like the caring person he had always been. the closer he got to the restaurant, the more nervous he became. his knees were weak, palms got sweaty and his throat went totally dry, but he had to do it. if not for agata, then for himself. he needed to open up to people and stop living in his tiny bubble of suffering and loneliness.<br/>
he entered the restaurant and spotted andres after a few seconds. he was sitting in the corner with a wine glass in his hands, chatting with one of the waitresses and looking like a damn greek god. he was wearing a beige suit with white shirt and a tiny black bow, not having any clue how cute he was looking - like a puppy playing with its owner, waiting for the ball to be thrown so he could follow it. martin hid the bouquet behind his back and approached andres, taking way too many deep breaths.<br/>
"good evening, mr. fonollosa", he said with a tiny smile on his face, making the waitress back off quietly.<br/>
"good evening, mr. berrote, i'm glad you're not late", the other one answered, putting the glass down. “how are you?”<br/>
“i’m… okay, i’m actually feeling better than ever”, he sat down and gave andres flowers while trying his best not to blush. “you?”<br/>
“now that you got me a bunch of my favorite flowers, i’m great”, said andres, smiling brightly and reaching out for the bouquet. their hands met for a millisecond, but it was enough to send martin into some kind of oblivion, like the lightning went through his entire body, leaving him in shock. it wasn’t much, but martin was so deprived of touch and any kind of affection, he wanted this moment to last forever.<br/>
after the very exclusive dinner with lots of wine and small talk, andres came up with an idea to be martin’s tour guide again. they split up the bill, left with a half empty bottle of wine (a gift from that cute waitress) and just wandered around the half empty streets of florence. martin learned that andres was born in spain, but he moved here eight years ago because of personal issues. he loved art, books, music and was a painter, but wine and an exclusive lifestyle turned out to be his true love. he was four years older than martin and apparently he was single, but they never got to talk about that. now they were just rambling about art and why it was so important to martin, but suddenly he was stopped by andres’ arm around his waist.<br/>
“stay here, i need to check if it’s safe”, said the older one and disappeared behind the corner. he came back after a minute or two, reaching out for martin’s hand. “let me show you the real florence, darling”.<br/>
suddenly they were in an entirely different world - the street was full of fairy lights and people singing and dancing, the air was filled with laughs, music, smell of amazing food and wine. martin felt like he went straight to heaven, and even if he died, he wasn’t really mad about it, because everything around him made him feel like he was finally at the right place.<br/>
“andres, it’s… breathtaking”, he said, looking the other one deep in the eyes. they were so dark, almost black, but thanks all the light reflecting in them they looked like a night sky, and martin wanted to look at them forever. he couldn’t though; andres took his hand and pulled him closer to himself, trying to blend into the crowd. now they were dancing and having the time of their lives, both realising that the other one means more to them than they could possibly think of.<br/>
after a solid hour of partying they finally left the street drunk, tired, but very, very happy. soon they found themselves sitting in front of il duomo, just admiring the view and silence around them.<br/>
“how did you know about agata? cause you mentioned her earlier, but she wasn’t there with me…”, started martin, resting his head on andres’ arm. se’s had so much wine today it replaced the blood in his veins, and now he was brave enough to show the other one that he’s in fact hitting on him.<br/>
“well… you’re not the only one who likes to watch other people, however bad it sounds”, answered andres, laughing quietly. “everyday on my way to work i just look around and find a random person, i try to memorise as many details as i can and then, when i’m bored, i just create their life story. so when one day i saw you on the balcony, sipping coffee with a cigarette - please don’t laugh - i just couldn’t get you out of my head. i prayed to god to be able to see you every morning, and i’m starting to think that you’re some kind of a guardian angel, because for the first time in my entire life someone had listened to my prayers. are you an angel, martin?”, he whispered, getting closer and closer to the other one.<br/>
“well, there’s only one way to find out”.</p><p>“i may not know a lot of things about you, but i’m sure as hell you’re no angel”, andres laughed, buttoning his shirt. martin was still half naked on the bed, shamelessly staring at his bare chest, perfect hands and his just entirely perfect self.<br/>
shortly after their angel talk they headed to andres’ flat, then had more wine and fucked until the sun got up. neither of them actually cared that it may be wrong, that it probably happened too quick or was just a side effect of being drunk - they fell for each other so hard to the point there was no turning back.<br/>
except that there was one turning back. martin and agata had a flight to argentina in a few hours, and missing it was equal to being fired. so no matter how good he was feeling at that moment, he had to end it, the sooner, the better.</p><p>“andres, i’m begging you, we don’t have time for that!”<br/>
“if not now, then when?”, said the older one, parking his car nowhere near the airport. he offered to give martin and agata a lift since they were already a bit late, but he seemed not to care even in the tiniest bit. they had no idea where they were, but it definitely was a middle of nowhere ending with a small castle on the hill. andres sprinted to the building and came back after a few minutes, holding a tiny package under his coat. he gave it to martin and finally headed to the airport, acting like nothing had ever happened.<br/>
the second they got there agata went to the bathroom and the souvenir store, leaving the two men alone. andres told martin to open the package, and when he did, he saw the most beautiful ring he’s ever seen. heavy, silver, with a huge green stone in the middle. martin’s eyes teared up a bit as he tried the ring on - it was surprisingly perfect.<br/>
“i don’t know what to say… why would you give it to me?”<br/>
“because i think there’s something special between us, something… unique and extraordinary. i know it may be weird since we’ve only met yesterday, but that’s how i feel and nothing will ever change it. i want you to have something that will always remind you of me. and no, you don’t have to give me anything in return. i just want us to meet once again soon.”<br/>
“thank you, andres. you have no idea how much it means to me…”<br/>
“promise you’ll call me when you’re home?”<br/>
“i promise, andres. don’t worry about that”<br/>
“i’m gonna miss you, darling”<br/>
“and i’m gonna miss you”.</p><p> </p><p>~ 5 years later ~</p><p> </p><p>“and here we have one of our most valuable pieces - the birth of venus. botticelli made it…” - that’s where martin stopped listening. at this point he knew everything about the painting, and although he still loved it, he just couldn’t listen to it anymore. instead he focused on andres. they’ve been a couple for 3 years now, but martin still adored his boyfriend as much as he did when they met for the first time. he was an epitome of perfection to him, and he wasn’t even trying to hide that fascination. he loved their love and there was absolutely nothing in this world that could possibly ruin it.<br/>
“i have one last tour to guide and then, my love, i’ll have a surprise for you”<br/>
“andres… you know i hate surprises! what is it?”<br/>
“if i tell you, it won’t be a surprise anymore”, he smiled and left him alone for another hour.<br/>
martin really hated surprises - not knowing what was going to happen made him extremely anxious. but that’s the way andres was, always trying to help martin break his own boundaries in the healthiest way possible.<br/>
he got bored after 5 minutes of waiting, so he decided to visit a museum shop and get some gifts for his friends. agata and her wife maite have just adopted a beautiful baby girl, so he had to fulfill his duty as a godfather. after spending way too much money in the shop he went out for a cigarette, and then finally decided to find a new art piece for his dad’s birthday. ever since he moved to florence it was the only thing that kept him in touch with his father, andres was perfectly fine with it, and since it was also the day they met for the first time, they both agreed that fifth of december was <em> their </em> day.<br/>
martin came back inside, and knowing that he has more than half an hour left, decided to wander around the gallery and try to find something he’s never seen before. he entered every single room, talked to a few guards he knew and then he remembered there was one room he was always too scared to go into - niobe room. the way artists portrayed suffering and pain had always made him a bit uncomfortable and he didn’t want to risk an anxiety attack, but suddenly he felt a jolt of confidence running through his body, like this was the thing he was supposed to do right there and right now. he found the room on the map, took a few deep breaths and headed that way, thinking about meeting andres in less than 20 minutes.<br/>
suddenly he heard a loud, almost deafening sound, almost like a lightning struck next to him. everything around him went pitch black and he fell, feeling something very heavy fall onto his legs. he wanted to scream, but no sound came out of his mouth. he could hear people scream, sirens wail and things fall, but the weight of something lying on him didn’t allow him to move even for an inch. the second before martin fainted he saw his dad, sitting on a beach in palermo, sipping a drink and laughing. he wanted to join, sit next to him and tell him what happened during those 25 years of his absence, but the vision started to fade, like it was some sort of a movie screen getting covered in smoke.<br/>
he woke up to dust, ruins and someone shaking his arm and screaming incomprehensible words in italian. he tried to say something, anything, but all that left his mouth were painful groans, sobs and andres’ name. he had finally started to realise what happened - something in the building exploded. martin survived - with a few serious injuries and possible trauma, but he did - but where was andres? where was the man of his dreams, the man he loved more than anything and anyone in this world? after realising he was lying on a stretcher he tried to get up, but his left leg wouldn’t move. he looked down and saw nothing but a puddle of blood, so he gave up in a second. he's never been so scared in his entire life, and the worst thing was that he had no one by his side. he could've been dying, and he would die alone.<br/>
"andres, andres de fonollosa, where is he? where is andres?"<br/>
"we don't know, sir, please, calm down and soon you will feel much better"<br/>
"where is he?! let me see him!"<br/>
he tried to get up once again, but one of the paramedics held him down, while the other one injected something into his veins. shortly after that he felt safety and calmness run through his body, he felt rested, maybe even happy, and so <em>so</em> tired. he closed his eyes and saw his father once again, but this time andres was there too. finally he didn't feel the overwhelming guilt from leaving one of them, so when he decided to join them, he felt the happiest he's ever been.</p><p>"mr. berrote, can you hear me? please give me a sign if you can"<br/>
his throat was too dry to be able to let out a sound, so he nodded with eyes still closed.<br/>
"good, i'm happy to see that. you're in the maria beatrice hospital in florence, italy. you've been injured in an explosion that took place in the uffizi gallery. do you remember anything?"<br/>
this time he shook his head, because even if he remembered, he didn't want to talk about it. the only thing he was interested in was what happened to andres, and when he finally managed to ask about him, the doctor furrowed his brows.<br/>
"i don't recall his name, so he may be missing or he's safe. would you like me to tell you if we find more about him?"<br/>
"please... yes, please."<br/>
"i will, i promise", he smiled and once again checked if everything was fine. "i need to leave now, but if you need help, just press this button and someone will visit you. is everything clear?"<br/>
he nodded again and fell back to sleep, wishing for this nightmare to be over when he wakes up.</p><p>"martin, it's been two years, please, stop thinking about it..."<br/>
"i'm trying, darling, i really am. but you know i can't... i just can't forget, and i don't think i ever will"<br/>
agata hugged him and backed off a few steps with tears in her eyes, leaving martin alone with andres. he smiled and looked at the bouquet of white roses before placing them on a cold stone.<br/>
"these are for you, my dear", he whispered, left a soft kiss on his lover's photo carved on a tomb and sat down, wanting to spend a few minutes with him.<br/>
martin wouldn't be there if it wasn't for andres. the love he felt for him kept him sane and alive during the sad time of grief, suffering and never ending pain. he even tried to take his own life away, but he wasn't brave enough to do it. now he was just existing, with a hole torn inside him, not able to be fixed.<br/>
"happy fifth of december, andres. i love you."</p>
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